The Poem Page

The Little Tree

By: Kim Adams

In the graveyard where my grandmother was buried, grew a small tree.
Hardly as tall as me in my thirteenth year.
Never in all the trips to the cemetery had I ever noticed how the tree had grown.
In thirteen years, I had never noticed that the little tree had grown.
But now it was well over ten feet tall.
Why had I chose to notice it today?
After all this time, why now?
How strong the tree must have been to survive all these year, alone with out the care of another.
The tree reminded me of how quickly time can pass by us, without our ever noticing it.
And how in the passage of time, we lose a lot of memories that were precious to us.
I can still remember the day my grandmother died.
I remember my aunt and uncle coming to tell us she was gone.
I remember the day we buried her.
I remember the service, my dad crying.
The anger and confusion that I felt when I saw my grandfather crying.
I couldn't understand why after all this time, and all the pain she went through, why show emotions now.
Now it was to late, all that was left was for him to grieve and live with the guilt.
All those tears that he shed would only dampen his face, and not ease her pain.
The pain that I had seen grow in her eyes.
The pain that no one that wonderful should have had to go through, without the comfort of her husband.
I can still feel the bitterness towards him, even now that he is gone.
I can not remember all the times I spent with her.
I can not remember her voice.
A voice I know that used to soothe my nightmares.
I can not remember her laughs.
I want to remember it all but I can not.
That fills me with a great sadness that time has only began to heal.
I remember a little tree growing beside her grave, and take some comfort in it being there.

This page was created on November 2, 1997
This page was last updated on January 14, 1999

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